Toeing The Line
by define-serenity
Summary: [Sebastian/Blaine] There's no rhyme or reason to it, why he doesn't confess everything once Blaine leers at him through his long lashes. He doesn't lack the confidence, he's not afraid of his feelings, he's been smitten for about as long as Blaine has been towing that damn line and - what is he waiting for?


Sebastian/Blaine, 1690 words, pg-rated, for **Seblaine Spring Fling**, day one: **april showers**. co-written with **anisstaranise**.

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_**Toeing The Line**_

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Downy pollen from the surrounding trees dances in the fading sunlight, stuck on blades of grass as it flutters down, carried away by the soft breeze that set in earlier this evening. The heat that had reined most of the day slowly leaves the ground, the trees, though leftover cushions of it still press against the bare skin of his arms, his legs, the air warm to breathe.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he watches Blaine finally pick a spot, the burberry blanket spread out in the grass so their clothes don't get stained.

Blaine blinks up. "Why?"

"You just seem–" He gives a small shrug, "nervous."

He doesn't ask because it's out of character for Blaine to be nervous, or stressed, or both. College had been coming at both of them hard these past few months and spring break was finally an excuse to get away from the stifling confinement of their dorms, the campus, the tedious in-and-out of classrooms. They've been out all day, shopping for some necessities but losing time at the park for the most part, the weather too inviting to spend it in their usual coffee shop, record stores or bookshops.

"I'm fine," Blaine says, hardly smothering his worry. "It's going to rain, you know."

He rolls his eyes fondly. "It won't."

"It will."

He narrows his eyes on Blaine's face, tiptoeing around the decision of whether or not he should continue this banter, but then Blaine smiles, and a warm feeling bottoms in his stomach. He's not exactly sure when it happened, if it was in between coffee dates, over the soft melodic carryings of Blaine's voice, or cradled in one of those smiles, but he's fallen for Blaine, head over heels and fierce, and he's been skydiving without a parachute for a good long while now.

"I'm getting some popcorn," Blaine says. "You want anything?"

"Maybe some iced tea."

He's no sooner made the request or Blaine's eyes shy away, and if Blaine were an actual blusher his cheeks would set in a soft pink glow. Was it something he said?

Blaine bites at his bottom lip, softly smiling as he utters, "As you wish."

A smile secrets itself around a corner of his own mouth at the sound of those words, three simple words Blaine started quoting when it became obvious how big a fan he was of _The Princess Bride_ \- he's not sure when it started, he's even less sure why it started, and it's become more of a running gag than an inside joke; he's never seen the movie or dared to look up the actual quote. Maybe he liked it that way, the mystery, the not knowing. In his experience reality rarely matched imagination, and he wouldn't trade those secret smiles and hidden blushes for the world. Or maybe just for Blaine to know how he feels. No one skydives without understanding all the risks involved.

They've been toeing this line, between staying safe inside the plane or jumping, falling into each other's orbit while enjoying the full effect of gravity. At parties Blaine hardly ever strays from his side, in fact they get lost talking about how success ought to be measured or debating how to pronounce _often_, while only having eyes for each other on the dance floor. He's in the front row at all of Blaine's performances and Blaine comes see him at all his games.

He's waited, he's been patient, he's let Blaine nurse his broken heart back into one piece and worked out a few dents from his own, and now they're stuck as friends, almost something more. It's like they're an inevitability, without either of them ever taking that final leap.

Today might not change much, all he did was catch an ad for Night Under the Stars and buy tickets for them to see _The Princess Bride_ together - maybe it's time he saw what all the fuss was about, maybe it's time he let go of some of that pride of his, and he'll find the real question that's meant to precede, "As you wish."

"I'm telling you, it's going to rain." Blaine sits down on the blanket next to him, carefully handing him a cup of iced tea.

He lounges back, his long legs stretched out, resting on one elbow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get out of this date."

Blaine takes a sip from his iced latte, mirroring his position. "A date. Is that what this is then?"

There's no rhyme or reason to it, why he doesn't just say yes, why he doesn't lean forward and plant a kiss on Blaine's cheek, why he doesn't confess everything once Blaine leers at him through his long lashes. He doesn't lack the confidence, he's not afraid of his feelings, he's been smitten for about as long as Blaine has been towing that damn line and - what is he waiting for?

"Movie's starting," Blaine says, placing the cup of popcorn on the blanket between them, and sure enough lights go up in the distance, time-old movie company logos rolling onto the screen.

He sneaks a glance at Blaine, who's eyes are fixed on the movie in deep concentration, and not for the first time tonight he wonders what has him so nervous - he's seen this movie a hundred times, he knows it inside and out, surely there won't be any surprises coming?

Someone on screen coughs, followed by the popping sounds of an 8-bit video game, quickly pulling him into the story. He wants to do this for Blaine, check out the things that he likes, show a genuine interest because this movie means something to Blaine. It's not a difficult plot to relate to; a kid sick at home gets a visit from his grandfather, who starts reading him a book called _The Princess Bride_, about a girl named Buttercup and a handsome farm boy...

"_Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Westley around_."

He smiles to himself, wondering if a young Blaine ever harbored any fantasies about young Westley. Who would blame him?

"_As you wish_," that same handsome Westley obeys on screen, his deep and intense gaze following behind Buttercup, the way his own had tracked Blaine through a room of crowded people. Why was this line their inside joke? Why had Blaine started saying 'as you wish' instead of 'sure' or 'yes' so many months ago? He gets so caught in the story he hardly notices that he sits up and folds his legs together, drawn to the screen, leaning forward, hanging on every word.

"_That day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish', what he meant was, 'I love you_.'"

His lips part, his eyes so intent on the screen he fears they might burn through, the images blurring into an unfocused haze. 'As you wish' meant 'I love you'? Has Blaine been confessing his feelings to him all this time in the most secret way he knew how? Maybe that's how he's been coping with the impasse, this deadlock of will-they won't-they - in the quiet knowledge that his feelings were out there in some shape or form, some sort of passive love confession left there for him to decode.

He should have watched this movie sooner.

His thoughts race at a million miles. There are so many things he could say that could be construed the wrong way, but he wants something right, something as deep and meaningful as 'As you wish' and can't be taken any other way than _I love you too_.

He looks back at Blaine, who catches his eyes as if he'd been waiting for them.

"I'm an idiot," he breathes, the truest words he's ever spoken, the most selfless and the most selfish.

Blaine giggles. "Yeah, you are."

And as if the world itself agreed, thunder breaks in the sky, blots of rain soon trickling down. Everywhere he looks people shoot up from their blankets and Blaine's quick to stand as well, but he merely takes his time in untangling his legs, getting up, firmly rooted in place. He can't believe it's been in front of him this whole time, hiding in plain sight, in between the smiles and blushes and coffee dates.

Blaine swallows hard. "Told you it would rain," he says, licking drops of rain off his lips while he remains exactly where he is too. It's too warm to loathe the rain, too late yet to find shelter now, the rain coming down in waves, tracking around the threads in their clothing.

"All this time you–"

_Loved me. _

"Yeah."

"And I've been–"

_An idiot_. Not blind, not even stupid, but foolishly making one excuse after the other.

Blaine smiles. "I know."

When he leans in it's nowhere near as romantic as in the movies; one hand cups Blaine's face and their mouths come together, lips part as the rain eases the bite at Blaine's bottom lip, his tongue even more soothing, before they come together completely and dive into a deep kiss that simmers down his spine - their noses bump clumsily and Blaine's fingers knit into his shirt, but he won't stop, he'll never stop, not until he's made up for every wish.

"We should–" Blaine finds his lips again, "get–" just one word this time before Blaine sucks at his lips, "inside before we–"

He doesn't let Blaine's get in another word, the promise of shedding their clothes and warming up by pressing their bodies together too enticing not to chase. "As you wish."

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**_fin_**

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End file.
